


You Can Use Me

by Dolavine



Series: spn_masquerade fills [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Bondage, M/M, Marking, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Submissive Sam, dominate dean, spit for lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:49:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolavine/pseuds/Dolavine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mark of Cain Dean is going off the rails, Sam offers himself up for rough brutal sex to help quell his brother's dark urges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Use Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spn_masquerade round three for this prompt:
> 
> Prompt 6. Dean/Sam top!Dean, d/s, rough sex, anal, mark of Cain.  
> Dean satiating his hunger from the Mark by fucking Sam...  
> Please only bottom!Sam (no switch-hitting or submissive!Dean)

Dean’s been edgy all week. His skin is about to crawl off of his body if he doesn’t do something—something fierce. He wants to crush something, use his bare hands to annihilate something. Sam’s been on him, keeping him from going off the rails on hunts and taking out more than the monster of the week, but he’s jonesing for some flesh under his nails. 

Sam can see the signs, see that Dean’s hungry for a kill, an actual murder, but he can’t—he won’t let him go down that road again. The First Blade is locked away safe and sound but it doesn’t keep Dean for hungering for chaotic slaughter. 

“Morning,” Sam says into the back of Dean’s neck as the alarm goes off and Dean grunts a non-verbal response. “Did you sleep at all?” Sam runs his hand down over Dean’s bare shoulder and Dean shrugs away from the gentle touch.

“No,” Dean spits out. He doesn’t want tender; he can’t handle it right now.

“The mark bothering you again?” Sam asks as his hand smoothes over the raised welt of the mark.

“When isn’t it.” Dean pushes Sam’s hand away. “I can’t…” He grits his teeth and bites back the urge to be mean.

Sam takes a deep breath. He can imagine how it feels, how dark it must be inside of Dean’s mind right now. How his soul must feel like it’s on fire. He wants to squelch the pain, satiate the dark hunger inside of him. “You can take it out on me,” he says, his body pressing into Dean’s back, urging him to respond.

“You don’t want what I’m willing to do to you.” Dean turns and glares at Sam. 

“I trust you to not go too far, but just far enough.” Sam exposes his bare chest to Dean in a show of submissiveness. “You’ve never gone too far before, and if you do, there’s always Poughkeepsie, our safe-word.”

Sam’s words make Dean’s blood run even hotter. The things he wants to do, the way he wants to make Sam beg, plead, and maybe even bleed a little, and he’ll let him do it all. Wreck him and then put him back together. He can’t refuse that willingness. 

“Okay.” There’s darkness in the word. 

The room suddenly feels cold as Dean pulls the sheet from Sam’s half-naked body and uses it to bind his wrists. Dean twists it, wraps an end around Sam’s left wrist and then his right before slinging it over the back of the bed. He twines the middle into a loop and fastens it around each post and then secures it, pulling Sam’s arms up and stretching them to their limit. Sam grunts a little but relaxes when the pulling stops. Dean runs his thumb under the waistband of Sam’s boxers, slowly and methodically inching them off of his hips. He flicks a finger into and then out of Sam’s belly button before yanking his boxers off with one hard pull, the fabric ripping at the seam on one side. He throws them on the floor and then goes about his work, threading the bedspread behind the legs of the bottom of the bed frame and brings it up on each end. 

“Give me a leg,” he says, yanking Sam’s leg to the corner of the bed. It hangs out a little, but that’s okay. He binds it with the thin bedspread, knotting it at the ankle. He runs his hand over the instep of Sam’s foot, tracing it to his big toe. Sam moans at the touch. “Stop making noise,” Dean commands him, and Sam listens, stifling his moans. Dean pulls Sam’s right leg to the edge of the bed and ties it fast. He steps back and looks at Sam’s long lean body stretched out as far as it will go. He’s naked and willing and Dean is going to take full advantage of him.

“There are three rules.” Dean takes the Busty Asian Beauties magazine from the night stand and rolls it up. “Don’t speak unless I ask you a direct question or you’re calling out the safe-word. No kissing unless I kiss you first. And no crying.” He takes the magazine and smacks it across Sam’s thigh and Sam jumps. He bites his lip and holds back a yelp. A red welt appears immediately. Dean runs his fingers over the fire-hot bump. “Do you understand?” he asks with a dark tone. Dean’s eyes rake over Sam’s body until they reach his eyes.

“Yes,” he says with a quiet voice. He’s looking right into Dean’s dark, lust-blown eyes.

“Good.” Dean runs the edge of the curled-up magazine along Sam’s abdomen, up his sternum, and taps him on the chin. “Good boy.” 

Dean strips himself of his boxers. His cock is hard. He crawls up between Sam’s legs, dragging his nails over Sam’s inner thighs as he goes. Sam’s not moving, but his muscles get tense under Dean’s touches, and he knows that Sam wants to wiggle but is holding back. “Do you want to squirm?” he asks Sam, his voice dropping a few octaves. 

“Yes.” Sam knows he can answer the question without punishment. He still doesn’t move, because he hasn’t been given permission yet.

“Don’t,” Dean says darkly, his fingers digging in harder, leaving red streaks over Sam’s prickled flesh. 

Sam still doesn’t move or whimper. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He keeps his strength and waits for more. He knows it will get darker, that Dean will use him and try to break him. The mark requires a sacrifice and Sam has offered to be _it_.

When Dean finally moves his hands from Sam’s inner thigh, there are deep half-moon shaped nail marks in the flesh. He smoothes his fingers over the red indentations and grins. 

There is more he wants to do, so much that he wants to do to his brother. He skims his eyes up Sam’s torso until they stop at his chest. Dean moves up Sam’s body, his hands pressing down on Sam’s hips, holding him still as he shifts and straddles Sam’s thighs. He’s looming over Sam; his cock is dragging a wet line over the top of Sam’s tight thigh muscle. He positions himself over Sam’s chest, his hands pinning Sam’s shoulders down. 

“You’ll like this,” Dean says. His eyes are dark; not black, but the green is muddy and lustful as he looks down into Sam’s wide eyes. Dean licks his lips like he’s looking at a big piece of apple pie—and he’s starving.

He bows his head and licks hard over one of Sam’s already pert nipples, sucks it into his mouth and pulls hard on it. He feels Sam’s chest heave with a quick gasp at the feeling. Dean uses his teeth behind his lips and bite down on the base of the nipple. Sam gasps again this time his shoulders tense up as if he’s fighting back a sound. Dean unsheathes his lips and drags his teeth up to the tip of the bud, stopping to scrape the crest with the blunt edge of his front teeth. Sam hisses and his whole body shudders. 

“Can you take it?” Dean asks. His words are empty, because unless Sam says the safe-word he’s going to continue, but he wants to hear Sam’s gasping when he answers.

“Yes.” Sam can barely say the word. It’s quiet and broken by the soft push of breath that it takes to say it.

“Good boy.” Dean rewards his answer by biting down harder on the tip of the nipple. Sam holds his breath and when Dean releases it, he lets out a shaky puff of air.

Dean moves to the other side, this time not being gentle at first; he harshly nips the base and pulls on it, pulling the nipple up as far as the skin will allow. He feels Sam’s abdominal muscles clench under him. He lets the hard red nub pull free from his clutches, the skin being grated by his teeth as it roughly slips through the bite. Dean smiles at the dark red blossom with dark blue tinges across the pebbled crest. It’s bruised. 

The air feels heavy in the room as Dean covers Sam’s torso in dark red and blue marks, testing the tenderest flesh of his belly and abdomen. He grabs the rolled-up magazine again and sits up. He brings the instrument down across Sam’s belly, leaving a dark red welt. He gently touches the instantly fire-hot flesh.

Sam wants to yelp, wiggle and writhe under Dean’s harsh touches, but he doesn’t. He takes it, takes it all, and enjoys most of it. Dean needs this, so he’s willing to take even the things that aren’t as pleasurable.

“Want me to touch your cock?” Dean asks. It’s another empty question, but he likes hearing how broken Sam is now, and he wants to break him even more.

Sam really wants it, really— _really_ —wants it. He swallows hard before he answers. “Yes.” 

Dean narrows his ever-darkening eyes. He leans in toward Sam’s face. “Yes, what?” His voice is stern and low.

Sam knows what he wants, and he gives it to him. “Yes… sir.”

The words are no sooner out of Sam’s mouth than Dean has his hand wrapped around Sam’s semi-hard cock, squeezing the base with a tight grip. Sam’s legs tense, the thickness of the muscle pushing up into Dean’s balls. “Don’t move,” Dean commands. His hand squeezes even tighter and he hears a soft exhale as Sam’s thigh relaxes. “Such a good boy,” he patronizes Sam. He gives several rough tugs over Sam’s cock. It starts to harden under the manipulations and Dean stops, runs his thumb over the slit and feels it pulse as warm clear precome oozes out of the opening. He takes his index finger and slips it through the fluid before pushing the tip into the lax slit up to the tight ring. He wiggles his finger, twists it and pushes until he hears a tiny sound in the back of Sam’s throat and he knows that it’s both good and painful. He removes his finger, encircles the underside of the head and pulls with a firm tug. Sam’s dick leaks out a steam of sticky liquid, coating Dean’s palm. 

“I think it’s time I fucked you.” Dean grabs Sam’s hips and digs his fingers into the soft grooves at the edges. “I want you on your knees, ass up in the air, begging for my cock.” His fingers leave bruises when he lets go. He unties Sam’s ankles and then his hands. He admires the soft pink rings and brush-burned skin before grabbing a tube sock from the floor and tying Sam’s wrists together again. “On your knees.” 

Sam’s sore, his legs are weak from restraining his muscles and trying not to move, but he does as he’s told. He rolls over, clutches the headboard and hauls himself up onto his knees. It feels good to stretch his back, but just as he’s getting settled in, the hard crack of something—probably the magazine—stings his ass. He bites back the yelp and holds tight to the headboard to keep from arching his back. 

Dean spreads Sam’s legs wide and climbs up between them. His cock is hard and leaking; he wants to split Sam open and make him beg for more. He slides his hand under the long hair resting on Sam’s shoulders and takes hold of his neck. The thumb of his other hand slides down the cleft of Sam’s ass and between his cheeks until he feels the soft pucker. He pushes at it with dry skin and it clenches. He thinks about lube and then gathers saliva and spits down between the spread cheeks, letting it drip through the crease to his thumb. He smears it around, the warm wetness making the pucker relax. He pushes at it again and it opens; he pushes in farther, the ring tight around his thick digit. He keeps pushing until it’s all the way in. He moves it in and out until Sam’s looser, then adds a second finger, crooking it, twisting it and working it in and out. 

“How much do you want me inside of you?” He wants to hear Sam ask for it, beg for it now that he’s open. Dean’s fingers have little resistance now and he’s ready to fuck into his brother’s body.

“So much,” Sam groans. He wants to rock into Dean’s fingers and fuck himself on them, but he doesn’t dare move.

“How much?” Dean asks again, twisting his fingers and jack-hammering several pumps into Sam’s ass.

“So much, sir.” Sam’s on the verge of crying out with pleasure. His body is thrumming and his cock is leaking a wet stripe over the bed sheet.

“So good.” Dean soothes the back of Sam’s neck with his fingers. He pulls his fingers out with a pop, reaches around and shoves his hand into Sam’s face. “Spit.” And Sam does. A hearty wet spit. Dean smears it over his cock and then what’s left over Sam’s stretched hole. He lines his cock up, runs the head around the entrance, and then pushes in.

The tightness, the way Sam’s body is taking him in overwhelms him. He shoves all the way in, bottoming out quickly. He feels Sam’s legs tremble with the push and he lets it go. He’s so turned on his cock couldn’t get any harder. 

The heat of Sam’s body rockets through Dean and he feels feral. His skin prickles and he loses control. He starts to move, to buck and slam into Sam; there’s a soft swack of skin on skin as he plunders Sam’s ass. Sam’s body is rocking back and forth from the force. 

“Beg me to fuck you harder,” Dean grunts.

“Fuck me harder, sir. Please fuck me harder.” He’s restraining himself from pushing back, rotating his hips. 

“I’ll fuck you harder.” Dean’s gritting his teeth; he twines his fingers through Sam’s hair and holds him steady, like reins on a horse. “I’ll break you wide open.” He’s pulling almost out and then slamming back in with brutal force. Sam’s body is smashing into the headboard as he jettisons forward with each thrust. “Tell me how bad you want it, beg me for it.”

Sam’s barely breathing. His heart is racing a mile a minute as Dean brutalizes his ass. It feels good; it hurts; it burns; but he wants it for his brother. “Oh please—oh please, give it to me harder. I want you so bad, make me yours, mark me, claim me, I want to be yours.” Sam’s gasping for air, trying to hold himself away from the metal framework as he’s shoved into it. He’s bound and his cock is throbbing so hard he thinks it might burst open if it doesn’t get touched soon. 

Dean growls; his eyes go black and he loses all sense of himself. He grabs hold of Sam’s shoulder and yanks him up by the hair; they fall back on Dean’s heels, and he sits Sam on his cock. He has Sam by the hip with one hand and is pulling his head back by the hair with the other when he leans forward and sinks his teeth into Sam’s shoulder, drawing blood with the animalistic bite. “There, I marked you,” Dean grumbles into Sam’s neck as he licks the bitter copper off of his lips. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam manages to say. 

Dean licks over the wound again. “Now work for it, boy,” he commands, his voice gruff and deep.

Sam’s legs are bent back and almost numb from the angle, but he digs his toes into the bed and gains some leverage to push himself up off Dean’s lap. His back arches from Dean’s hand through his hair and he falls back onto his chest. He bucks his hips and circles them as best he can with the positioning. The thrusts are shallow but they feel so good. He turns his head when Dean pulls it to the side and he sees that his eyes are blown black with the demon. A trill of fear runs through him but he keeps on going, thrusting and rocking on Dean’s lap. 

“Fuck,” Dean moans with a guttural grunt. He starts moving with Sam, thrusting his body and undulating into him. He’s hot and ready to come. He loosens his fingers on Sam’s hip and reaches around to grab his cock. Sam moans but Dean lets it slide; he doesn’t care anymore, he’s almost there, and Sam’s being such a good little boy. He strokes hard over the ridged shaft of Sam’s cock and it doesn’t take much before Sam’s grunting out high-pitched noises through his nose and moaning quietly. Dean pulls his hair as the come shoots out, spraying wildly over the bed. “Good boy, good little fuck toy,” Dean whispers into Sam’s ear.

It’s only a few more hard thrusts before Dean is coming inside of Sam. He shoves Sam forward, Sam’s body crumbling to the bed, his elbows holding him up, his bound wrists laid out in front of him like he’s praying, and it’s the most delicious sight Dean’s ever seen. He grabs him by both hips and ruthlessly gets himself off inside of Sam’s body as he finishes coming. 

He collapses on Sam, exhausted and satiated. His eyes are back to normal and the hard vibrating need to kill is gone. He pulls out and wipes his cock on the edge of the sheet. He rolls Sam over and puts his hands over his head. “I like you this way,” he smirks down at him. Then he leans in and kisses him—doesn’t bite him, doesn’t hurt him, just gently kisses him and runs his hands up his arms until he’s at the binds. He undoes the tube sock and throws it on the floor before nestling in beside Sam.

“Thanks,” he mumbles into Sam’s temple.

Sam’s cold and sore, his body trembling, when Dean pulls him in close, his warmth calming him. The gentle kiss reminds Sam how much he loves _this_ Dean. 

“You’re welcome.”

 

The End


End file.
